


Pacta sunt servanda

by LaMalefix



Series: Ex Machina [4]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 14:18:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16683220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMalefix/pseuds/LaMalefix
Summary: «You're tired, go home.» Alec murmurs immediately.«I have to limit the damage. When you kill the plant, it will explode... and it will be impossible to limit the destruction only with these protective runes...» the Warlock whispers, moving aside a bit, wobbling for a second.«Magnus, you said...» he begins to say.«There's something I don’t like, Alexander. That plant is different from the others. It didn’t react to your angelic energy like the other that attacked Barbie as soon as he got too close to its perimeter...» he explains, his eyes fixed on the ominous plant that is climbing in the sky.A mission that goes horribly wrong, Magnus who as usual saves the day but risks everything, his life in the forefront. Alec who has to face this terrible loss, and then, finally everything returns to normal. Magnus survives.But is it really all that simple?Now they have to deal with the aftermaths of Magnus' choices, and something in their lives will change for good.Pacta sunt servanda, agreements must be kept.The (not-so-long-awaited) fourth part of the Ex Machina series.[With the so-awaited Hurt/Comfort]





	Pacta sunt servanda

**Author's Note:**

> So here we are,  
> this is a transition chapter, something will happen in this story, something that will change their life for good.  
> I'm not that happy with the outcome, but I hope you'll like it.  
> I hope to make it a 3-chapter story (because I'm a bit obsessive, and the other stories are 3-chapter long, but this may be a bit longer, 5 chapter or so...)  
> See you at the end notes...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> ###  _Praecipitat quisque vitam suam et futuri desiderio laborat, praesentium taedio._ _At ille qui nullum non tempus in usus suos confert, qui omnes dies tamquam ultimum ordinat, nec optat crastinum nec timet. Quid enim est quod iam ulla hora novae voluptatis possit afferre? Omnia nota, omnia ad satietatem percepta sunt. De cetero fors fortuna ut volet ordinet: vita iam in tuto est. Huic adici potest, detrahi nihil, et adici sic quemadmodum saturo iam ac pleno aliquid cibi: quod nec desiderat capit. Non est itaque quod quemquam propter canos aut rugas putes diu vixisse: non ille diu vixit, sed diu fuit._  
>    
>    
>  De Brevitate Vitae, VII ─ Lucius Annaeus Seneca
> 
> Everyone hurries his life on and suffers from a yearning for the future and a weariness of the present. But he who bestows all of his time on his own needs, who plans out every day as if it were his last, neither longs for nor fears the morrow. For what new pleasure is there that any hour can now bring? They are all known, all have been enjoyed to the full. Mistress Fortune may deal out the rest as she likes; his life has already found safety. Something may be added to it, but nothing taken from it, and he will take any addition as the man who is satisfied and filled takes the food which he does not desire and yet can hold.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He’s short of breath. In the worst way possible.

The air burns in his throat and the nostrils widen, like his bronchi, to attract more oxygen.

It’s cold, a horrible, impossible cold. Never felt, not even when he was little, when he was alone, when his mother was gone, when he no longer had a home.

And he sees himself again in a dark place, which emanates loneliness and emptiness. He’s alone, there, and maybe he looks like a child, small and frail back, or maybe he looks like an old man, trembling in the  dark. But the only thing that resonates in his head it’s that he is alone. Of course, he is. And it’s his biggest fear. Being alone, again. And in addition to this overwhelming emptiness, he doesn’t hear anything. A huge nothingness that digs into his heart. The weight of immortality, the immeasurable weight of loneliness.

Is he back? Did he come back? Did he really see Alexander? Did he really kiss him?

Or was it just another dream? A vain hope?

But then he has again possession of his body, the terrible dive that his heart makes when it returns in his chest, and tears off his breath and forces him to sit down, look around and have more properties of his mental faculties.

He’s in his room, on his bed. It’s dark and the mattress is cold. Alec still hasn’t returned from his mission, and Magnus is a little brooding, because he hoped to find him in bed, half-naked possibly, asleep, because Alec certainly needs rest.

And maybe he still feels that loneliness on him, that burns his neck and stomach, and maybe he wants to get up, maybe he wants to smoke. To smoke.

When it was in fashion, he didn’t like smoking, he did so much to keep up with the times. But sometimes it gave him comfort when he was alone, when he felt alone. He smoked and watched the volutes of the fume rise towards the sky, as if to leave inside those particles of nicotine and carbon dioxide also what clouded his heart.

But then he looks at his hands, he look at his fingers that tremble a bit and tightens his fists, to force and push back his thoughts. Casting back loneliness and swallowing it. Alec will be back soon, and they’ll have to talk, maybe cuddle a little and then face _the speech_ , _the change_ , _the thing_ , their life together and what awaits them in the future. And he can’t, absolutely can’t be deceived by his nightmares, nor become the shadow of himself, he must drive back every bad thought, every bad feeling and live it as it comes. Because he and Alec have little time, and when Alec will not be there anymore, or when he won’t want him anymore, he will be able to let the solitude wrap him completely and annihilate him. But not now. No, because there’s a big threat waiting for them, because he has a ring on his finger that means many things, even if they haven’t talked about it yet, because he still wants to have some time with him, with that wonderful man that still hasn’t returned home.

So he decided to get out of bed and, if at first he wanted to put on something colourful, which masked his bad mood, now instead just wants something cozy and warm. He wants one of his faded sweaters, which however has Alec’s scent and still seem to emanate the warmth of his skin.

And then he goes into the living room, puts the big teapot up, so as to have enough tea all night long, until Alec is there, and clutches a blanket to be wrapped in like a chrysalis, because it starts to get really cold, and maybe it’s not just in his head.

He settles on the couch and waits, the cup in one hand and a pile of books to fathom on the table. It will be a long night, but he is good at waiting.

Or so he believed.

For a hundred years he didn’t pay much attention to the continuous flowing of time.

Those who have infinite time ahead of themselves usually don’t notice the days that begin and end, the blossoming of the seasons. Of course, it must be said that time has been his greatest enemy, since forever, since suddenly around the age of eighteen he has stopped growing old, and the losses he had in his life, he who didn’t age forced to see the people he loved wither. And maybe that’s why he decided to ignore it, his mad tyrant, who escapes from his fingers like clear water and leaves no obvious signs on him if not the absence of those people who are gone. Here, time has taken away everything, and for almost a hundred years he has decided to ignore that imperious swirl of minutes, hours, days that swept his face like an endless hurricane, but without leaving evidence of its destructive passage.

But it’s good to wait, to spend hours even just immerging in reading, trying to ignore that dull rumble of that pendulum called solitude.

But then, then Alexander appeared in his life. And waiting has had a new meaning, the passing time has had a different meaning, always destructive and definitive, but also wonderful.

Alexander. A time-limited existence that should never have had his attention. The heart of an immortal is fragile, especially those who have all those years to weigh on their shoulders, but their face is as smooth as that of a child. Magnus, locked like a hedgehog, to protect his heart with high magical barriers, had let him in with his clumsy irreverence as a boy. A real kid. Because Nephilim, if they are lucky, grow old, wither, die; sadly, the majority of them remain young and become dust. But perhaps they can never even be described as kids, since the Nephilim are war machines, puppets with the heart of tin to be reshaped in the hands of the Clave, forced to grow before their body, to annihilate themselves for their own purposes. But Alexander is different, and maybe that’s what caught his attention, more than his breath-taking beauty. He’s different because he sees beyond, because he, unlike his fellow men, greets him when he leaves the house, tells him that he will come back soon, because he tries to build something for them, something that may last even after his end. And this is what makes him a wonderful creature, a creature of which the Angels should be proud.

And so, so he began to live for the present and to hope for a future, a rosy future to be happy and make him happy. Caducous, ephemeral, of course, but enough to make him feel loved and to feel loved, just enough to make him forget that he is alone, that he will return to being alone.

Here, Magnus is now more or less circumspect of the passing time. Since he is with Alexander and sees him go out in his demon-killer gear, he counts the minutes until the door opens and he returns home and lets himself be kissed away all the fatigue, all that horror from his face, until he removes all that cumbersome amount of weapons he’s wearing, all the belts and straps around his waist and thighs, until he gets undressed and brought to bed, to be loved a little more, to feel alive a little more.

Here, the passing time now has another flavour. No longer the bitter one of absence. It has the sparkling taste of love, the cozy smell of home and moods that impregnate the sheets curled between his fingers, smells of sweaty skin and kisses more and more deep and humid. It’s the wait.

And Magnus is good at waiting.

But lately, Magnus certainly can’t be called a patient type. He has some jets that one at his age shouldn’t even remember, but are actually more than normal for the age he shows.

And it’s also something quite normal, since, while things were heating up, in that bathtub, Alec’s demon-sensor interrupted them and he, too tired and battered, dressed in haste in his gear, and he hurried out, giving him another quick kiss on his lips and leaving him with some quick recommendation.

And Magnus wanted to throw a little spell to make him refresh at least a little, to make him feel better a little, because he looked like a rag, poor thing. But his magic is so unstable that in the best-case scenario, he would have reduced Alec to crumbs. And so he saw him go out, and a lot of hours have passed since then. And dawn already begins to dye the sky with a strange pale pink.

And Magnus has been busy just a little, because Catarina has told him via fire message that she would pay a visit to his house, and put a needle in his arm to begin the whole lot of test, in a couple of days, and all the noisy Nephilim’s family surrounding Alexander is evidently as busy as he is, so he slept, woke up with that terrible nightmare of which he remembers only the effects on his skin and that impossible desire to smoke, and decided to plumb those books and let his cat send him those withering glances from the shelf he’s sitting on.

And so, he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And counts the minutes, because he wants Alexander in his arms, he wants to really make him forget that ugly misadventure, he wants to lick his wounds and cuddle him until he sleeps better, until he wants to talk.

Because they have a lot to talk about.

And maybe even manage to deal with the ring that cradles his finger. Ring that is now the only one on his hands. That looks really good on his ring finger. And he looks at it, and by dint of looking at it, surely, that metal band will be consumed.

Alexander Lightwood is something impossible. That’s it, just so he could describe him, the only person in the world, the only creature who ever wanted to love him so much to choose him, to want to put a ring on his finger. No one has ever asked him to marry him, no one. Technically not even Alexander has asked him to marry him, not yet, but he has a ring on his finger, and this must be enough for now.

And so he waits, he looks at his ring, the most important he ever had, and look at the door, a forgotten book on his knees, not even remember why he got it, it or the other tomes on his coffee table, and a blanket on his shoulders, a cup of steaming tea in his hands.

He feels cold, a strange cold, that he has never really felt, because it’s a cold that flows in his veins, that drums in his ears and twist and turns between his cortical circuits. And he doesn’t feel it, the chaos of his magic, that incessant river of power and warmth that moves in his cells.

Maybe it’s just the cold of loneliness, the cold of Alec’s absence near him. A psychological cold, which really doesn’t make sense to exist, because Alexander always comes back.

 

 

 

It’s late afternoon when the Chairman Meow decides to leave the shelf from which he has observed Magnus all day, judging him silently, while he listlessly read all those tomes, and approaches the door with his plush step and curled tail.

Magnus follows his movements out of the corner of his eye, and finally the door opens up revealing the Shadowhunter, a roughly battered air that shines through his shaggy hair, crumpled and dirty clothes. But as soon as he looks up, on the Warlock, on the couch, balled up in his chrysalis of blankets, his face lights up and all the weariness seems to disappear from his skin as if it were only dust. Alec quickly slips off his boots, pampers the cat that seemed to wait only that to return to the shelf at the top of the bookshelf in front of the sofa to start staring the Warlock again, and Alec hurries to move towards Magnus, stripping in that short journey of everything he’s wearing and letting it fall to the ground without too many ceremonies.

He has blood stains and bruises a little everywhere, and he is pale, so pale, and he looks exhausted and Magnus would like to tell him something, but honestly it seems to him a bit to walk on thin ice at the moment, because they haven’t yet clarified anything. If it had happened before his whole experience of death-or-not-death he could have told him something silly about Nephilims and their wickedness, but now he genuinely can’t say anything. He just looks at him, while Alec with a lightning-fast and very catchy gesture lets slip his trouser belt off.

He hasn’t said a word since he entered, and perhaps it isn’t a good sign. He didn’t even do his usual coaxing to the Chairman, just a pair of tired caresses. Weird.

But he smiles, he looks radiant in all his weariness.

And suddenly he stops there.

Loose trousers, bare feet, bare chest. Those hair all ruffled on the head.

It almost seems like an invitation.

And Magnus gets up, perhaps even before he realizes it, moves the covers of his cozy chrysalis, drops the book that he even didn’t remember to have on his knees and gets close enough to him to see the signs on him. He studies his bruises better, the blood, the blood that stains his skin, doesn’t seem his. Or at least he has no recent signs of injury, so he shouldn’t have suffered anything serious.

And then he hears it again, the incessant drumming of Alec’s heart, and the awkward dive it does when suddenly Magnus reaches out to touch his skin, to make sure that the blood is not his.

It’s an enveloping and pleasant silence, the one that lingers in the room, punctuated by the heartbeats of the young Nephilim that are strong and clear in his ears.

Alec’s face suddenly flickers, all together, and almost seems to glow with a blush like a Christmas light, and for a moment, Magnus fears that he is having some late reaction at the last meeting with a Demon, but then he recognizes that redness, which goes hand in hand with the beats of his heart. But the doubt remains as long as Alec doesn’t reduce all that too small space that divides them and doesn’t take possession of the Warlock’s lips without too many ceremonies, and Magnus does nothing but surrender. And as the kiss becomes more slippery and deep, Alec lets his warrior calloused hands run down under the faded sweater that Magnus has clearly stolen from him.

And when he gets away from him, Alec looks very distraught, very tired, again. As if that kiss had stolen his last energies, or as if he really didn’t want to break away from him.

«Well, that was certainly a greeting...» Magnus whispers, pleased, hoping for a smile.

Alec seems to tremble for a moment only, as if the Warlock’s voice let a shiver run down his back, but then he crouches against him, clutching himself to Magnus with both arms, sinking his face on his shoulder and inhaling softly. «I’m home».

«Welcome back,» he replies, in the most playful tone he can find. «Long day?».

Alec snorts and tries to break away from him. «Exhausting. And I stink pretty bad, Magnus, I’m sorry...».

Magnus slowly laughs, and holds him more tightly, tugging him close. «You don’t smell so bad... there have been worse times, I have to say...».

«I missed you. I wanted... _I need_ ─» he mumbles and snorts again, crouching against him. «And then I wanted to take a shower and... I have to go back to the Institute. Those plants are everywhere and... they need a helping hand».

«The Institute has showers, Alexander...» he murmurs slowly. «You could have rest a little if you had stayed there...» he tries to add, but Alec interrupts him with a loud snort.

«Please, I was not far from here… I wanted to see you. I missed you. I had to... I had to recharge the batteries and...» he adds trying to reduce the already insignificant distance between them. « _Please_ …».

Magnus sighs and tries to mask the slight smile that pulls his lips, because Alexander is really unique, the only warrior in the world that can be so sweet. _Recharge the batteries_ , as an expression makes him laugh. He decides to give him even more attention. «How much time do you have?».

«Clary told me that if I call her, she opens a portal and brings me back to the Institute, if there’s an emergency I’ll open a portal without even warning... but she told me that I certainly don’t have to go back before I rested a bit, at least a couple of hours... Isabelle was also categorical: I have to rest and be pampered by you...» he nods, breathing in a bit from Magnus neck.

«Remind me to send them a fruit basket... or take them shopping, they’re good, they care about you. And they instilled you some common sense...» the Warlock hums, letting his fingers run to caress the soft hair behind his nape and Alec trembles under his light touch. «Come on, we have a bath to settle, I’m going to fix the bathtub, I wash your hair, I’ll cuddle you a little, what do you think?».

But Alec snorts, and shakes his head. «No, I’m going to take a shower...» he sighs. «So we have more time to be together, taking a bath makes me sleepy and then... if we are both naked, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you, you know?».

And Magnus grins and lets his hand descend down his back. And maybe he would like to make some sharp comments, some stupid joke, but he just smiles at him. «Can I prepare something to eat, meanwhile, mh? So you get something in your stomach...» he whispers. «And then you can take a nap, okay?».

And Alec nods. «Snack, yes... but no nap».

The Warlock sighs, but he usually manages to make him fall asleep even without spells, and for now he isn’t even trying to suggest the idea of making spells since his magic is so unsteady.

They stay like that for another long moment, and perhaps even Magnus is recharging his batteries, with the warmth that emanates from the young Nephilim, with the now slow and steady beat of his heart that echoes in his ribcage. And then Alec walks away, again, the air vaguely exhausted when he loosens his embrace. «I’m going to take a shower,» he murmurs. «I’ll be right back, mh? Don’t cook nothing fancy, I just want a snack».

And Magnus doesn’t say anything, he just looks at him plunging into the dim light of the bedroom, and so he decides to go and arrange a snack, since he too has an empty stomach. Almost as much as his fridge actually, given that there is nothing else inside but a dried lemon that is perhaps even a little musty.

On the other hand, there is a jar of jam and a half jar of peanut butter. Here, the solution is simply a couple of sandwiches, and maybe two cups of mint tea.

Magnus hurries to toast the bread a little, just to make it a little golden, while the teapot starts to snort on the stove and while the stove slowly do its job, Magnus collects the things that Alec has dropped on the road between the front door and the couch, just for convenience to let him find everything together in one solution when he has to go out.

And when he returns to the stove, he begins to stuff the bread, humming a long-forgotten song, while the mixture of leaves and aromas begins to colour the boiling water and, perhaps, if he doesn’t hear his heartbeat so close, he wouldn’t even notice that Alec is already out of the shower.

He looks at him from the corner of his eye, a very light smile that pulls his lips. In fact, he said he was coming back immediately. But Magnus pretends not to see him, as he looks at him with his arms folded, his shoulder resting against the frame of the bedroom door. It isn’t the first time that Alec has taken his time, that observes him from afar, and perhaps his heart has always beaten so fast, with this same insistence. And every time Magnus looks the other way, pretends not to see him, or to be surprised, because those secret looks warm his heart and make him feel important, and he could never give up on them; but openly say that he knows that Alec sometimes he loses himself looking at him like that, whatever he is doing, as if it were a unique and unrepeatable gesture, probably he would embarrass himself and try to limit himself, then, avoiding these bizarre demonstrations of affection.

Yet even Magnus would like to observe him, he would like to see that magnificence, that alabaster skin  that sparkles with the essential oils of the soap, the hair that are still a bit wet but that he tried to tame by pulling them back to uncover their eyes, and maybe Magnus is a little annoyed, but only a little bit, when he notices that he doesn’t have the usual domestic air in his wardrobe right now, he’s ready to go out, he doesn’t have those funny checkered pants and that thicker green-grey t-shirt that he uses for his pajamas when it starts to get colder. He’s ready to go out, which means they have numbered minutes. But he pretends to ignore this too, he focuses on him, on their little time together. The runes that mark his skin, as soon as he emerges from the shower seem even darker, the signs of those that are not permanent seem veins in the marble, and perhaps Magnus would like to check, taking off the black shirt that he wears, if those bruises are still there, if iratze still burns on his skin, sign of a recent activation.

But he just lets himself be watched, until he has to turn around, seven sandwiches ready to be bitten on a plate and two cups of steaming tea on the tray.

When he turns around, Alec tries to look down, and make sure he looks as if he has just come out of the bedroom.

«Hey, already done?» Magnus whispers, a light smile on his lips.

«Yes, I just needed a lot of soap...» he nods, retrieving the tray from Magnus’ hands without much qualms and starts to rest everything on the table in front of the couch.

Magnus sits, crumpling the blanket to one side. «I’ll have to ask Cat to bring us something to replenish the pantry... we only have bread and half a jar of jam; peanut butter is gone...».

«We can go shopping together the first morning I’m free. And for the next dinners we could order something...» he says taking a seat next to him.

Alec retrieves two sandwiches, crushes them one on top of the other and takes three bites and begins to chew with a full mouth, puffy cheeks in a slightly comical way, that make him look a little bit like a hamster.

«Eat slowly, there’s no hurry, Alexander. The sandwiches don’t run away... I only want one, I made plenty for you…» he whispers smiling.

Alec gobbles up the first two sandwiches in less than a minute and stretches to recover his chipped cup to drink two sips of mint tea, which is the best thing in these gloomy rainy afternoons.

«Sometimes, I wonder how you don’t choke when you eat, I wonder if there is a rune to reduce the risk of suffocation...» moans Magnus bringing his cup to his mouth.

«I have a great pharyngeal reflection...» Alec replies without much thinking, very seriously.

And the tea that danced on Magnus’ palate becomes like lava in his throat, when he chokes on it and if he weren’t this fabulous, his tea would come out all the way from the nose.

«Hey, you okay?» Alec whispers softly, moving his hand all over his back in a somewhat reassuring way.

And sometimes Magnus, even now between a cough and the other, can’t believe the fortune he has, how adorable is that man there, near him. «I love you.» he replies, shrugging.

And Alec’s face lights up with an impossible smile, which perhaps would annihilate everything around them, leaving them there, stunned and dazzled. And then he approaches to kiss his cheek, very softly, like a feather.

Magnus moves just to touch his lips, bringing him closer to him to sink the kiss more.

Alec sighs when their mouths step away, and stretches to recover another sandwich and bite it without too many ceremonies. «How come all these books?» he mutteres, gesticulating randomly on all the volumes, until he took one in his hand. «The Codex? You hate the Codex, you consider it useless... Books of Angelology, De Coelesti Hierarchia...» he begins to list with his mouth full. «These are strange readings... What were you looking for?».

Magnus swallows and smiles. «It’s... strange, okay? While _I was_... I don’t know... I mean I don’t know how to explain it…».

«Is that one of those things related to... _that other thing_?» he murmurs, remaining vague, looking down, on the battered cover of the Codex.

«I suppose so,» answers Magnus, his voice choked in his throat.

«Then we’ll talk about it, but not now.» Alec murmurs slowly, with a soft sigh. «Because now I just want to enjoy your company, like this…».

«Recharge the batteries, yes,» the Warlock hums in agreement, and perhaps, he would like to talk about it now, face _the thing_ right away without wasting any more time, so they can move on, enjoying the best part of their time together.

Alec sighs again with a loud snort and runs a hand through his hair. The sound of his heart accelerates, and maybe Magnus would like to reach out to pick up his hand, but he stays still. «I’m not ready for this speech, Mags...» the Shadowhunter says softly. «I don’t want to relive that thing, I─ _I just_...» his words get stuck in his teeth and leaves the sandwich on the napkin, half chewed, and dives on the couch, crouches against Magnus. «I’m not ready,» he repeats, his head in the Warlock’s lap and the words shuffle like muffled by the position, by the dizziness.

And he seems so young again, so fragile, so innocent, he just looks like a kid, certainly not a warrior. And Magnus sighs and gently strokes his shoulders with the tips of his fingers, he counts the vertebrae of that perfect backbone, and then climbs with his hand in his hair, still a bit wet, to caress his scalp softly. «Okay, okay».

Alec looks up, those blue eyes vibrate on him, as if they were lanterns suspended over a frozen lake, driven by the wind. But then he just smiles and sinks back on his lap. «If you want to do some research and need some special books, you can come to the Institute whenever you want. As soon as we have talked about it, I will help you too... Whatever the thing you are looking for...».

«Nothing for sure... for now... Let’s just say I felt lonely and I wanted to keep myself busy,» he murmurs, and perhaps it’s true, or maybe he has an idea. Perhaps those dreams of his, that meeting with the Angel, maybe he just wants to find out the truth, to understand. To understand. Yes, he wants to understand. But there’s no need for Alec to know it, not now. He isn’t ready.

«Mh,» he mumbles, tightening his grip on Magnus hips, and says nothing more.

And Magnus slowly drinks his tea, finishes his sandwich while he continues to caress Alec’s hair, slowly, and waits for him to say something more, something that doesn’t come. And maybe he is fast asleep, just like those kids who first chat and then they fall asleep, and when Magnus stretches to retrieve the blanket to cover his shoulders, Alec tightens more his hold on him.

«I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, never again, _never again_. I’ll never leave you again.» he pulls out hard, like a whisper, and his fingers in Alec’s hair tremble, and maybe his eyes burn. But soon it becomes a sort of chant, and serves to calm both his heart and Alexander’s, which now beats slowly in his chest, that rises and lowers with his soft snoring.

They will talk when they are ready.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Perhaps at a certain point, even Magnus had napped, maybe he too needed to sleep, to charge the batteries. Or maybe it hasn’t really been a long time since Alec crouched against that marvellous man, when the familiar gurgling of a portal begins to rumble in his ears.

The sensor begins to whistle in the immediate vicinity and Alec mumbles something, an annoyed grumble.

And at first he feels Magnus’ fingers caressing his skin, sliding into his hair, curled up between his fingertips. «My love, my sleepyhead?» and the second thing he hears is that voice, soft, warm, familiar. It warms his heart. «I think it’s time to go».

And Alec sighs and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. «I guess so...».

Magnus blows him a kiss on the forehead, with his soft grin that pulls his lips. He said something, some time ago, and Alec doesn’t remember sincerely in what context, but certainly it’s something related to his waking up lazily. Magnus has always said that he is beautiful, a beauty that Alec may have never had awareness of, and of which perhaps he is not yet fully conscious, but there is a moment, when Alec wakes up and Magnus is awake before him, his green-golden unglamoured eyes seem to shine more, as if to better taste his beauty, this unconscious perfection of his that hovers over his face, his messy bed-hair, eyes still tired and glassy by sleep. Breath-taking, he called him breath-taking. And Alec is certainly not one of those who basks in compliments, but it’s always nice to make that effect to the person you love.

And his heart makes that funny leap, once again, while Magnus’ smile becomes even brighter, even more dazzling. «You have to go and fight your demons, Shadowhunter... I’ve put your things in the usual place».

And he needs all his good will to get away from Magnus, to get rid of that warmth, even the idea of getting away from him is arduous. Really, it became necessary to recharge the batteries.

«Are you two decent?» mutters someone, Jace. His head comes out of the portal first of all, then the rest of the body comes out noisily landing with the boots soiled with dirt and grass on the precious parquet floor of the apartment.

And Alec grunts again, moving to finally sit down, and then go and retrieve the pieces of his gear. «Did I sleep too much?» and perhaps his voice comes out a little too severe.

«No, absolutely, because you needed it...» replies Jace, standing in front of the vortex of the portal, observing his movements a bit like the Chairman observes Magnus from his shelf above the bookcase.

«So why are you here? There’s an emergency, the sensor...» he grumbles, sluggishly putting his quiver on his shoulder. «I agreed with Clary that...» he begins to say.

And perhaps he’s lucky that Magnus is still a bit sleepy, because maybe he doesn’t notice the glaring ice that exists between Alec and his parabatai. And it’s certainly something strange to witness, considered that the two of them even in the worst moments, have always managed to find common ground. But it’s clear that Jace is tense, somehow nervous, while Alec finishes wearing his gear.

«Well, we can go.» Alec hums, rubbing a hand through his hair and glancing at Magnus. The Shadowhunters don’t say goodbye, they never promise to come back because it’s something that is taken for granted, a good warrior always returns. But with Magnus it’s different, Alec feels the need to tell him each time, that he will come back, that they’ll dine together maybe even at an impossible hour, but they’ll have quality time to spend together.

«Actually, I’m here to... _ask_... how can I say...» Jace grumbles, cutting a glance on Magnus.

And there would be no need to be parabatai to understand what that look means, he wants his help, he wants Magnus’ help. And this makes Alec blood boil in his veins, an ineffable anger that transcends the human screams in the soul. How does he dare to ask this? After all that happened in the last few days? Magnus doesn’t even control his magic, right now. And he was there too, Jace was there, with him, looking at his motionless body. And Magnus was there, until a few hours ago, left for dead. He was dying. To save Jace. He was dying.

«No.» Alec answers immediately growling. «Absolutely not, Magnus must recover, his magic is unstable right now... and you were here too, right?» he snarls then, approaching his lifelong friend with decisive unfriendly steps. «We will ask another Warlock, mh?».

«I know but... it’s a mess, one of those pestilent plants appeared in Central Park a few moments ago and it’s growing really fast... and fortunately it’s cold, and the Park is closing but... it’s in the middle of the city, it’s dangerous... and is still full of Moundies in the street and then... we are in a time crunch…» explains Jace shrugging, his voice steady, serious. «Magnus already knows how to act... they almost killed us not that much hours ago, Alec... you were pushed away... and that was a close call─».

He does remember. He remembers the uncomfortable feeling of being pushed back by one of those roots, and if he hadn’t been agile and flexible enough he would have been found his chest stabbed by that plant without half measures, and certainly he wouldn’t have been afraid of losing Magnus anymore, because he would have died there instantly. He remembers, the terrible recoil that his back suffered when he was rejected by that brick wall of that building in Manhattan. He still has the sign of some bruise that burns his back. «I’m fine.» Alec grumbles.

« _Alexander._ » Magnus begins to say, and perhaps Alec looks at him with too much fury, his gaze cold enough judging by how the Warlock looks down, as if wounded.

And maybe Alec would like to apologize, but he’s afraid. He’s afraid. Magnus can’t go with them, not now, not yet. Perhaps never. He must no longer enter these things. It’s not right. This isn’t his battle. «I’m fine.» he repeats, softly and then looks at his parabatai with the same fierce in his eyes. «We can go, we’ll find a way to stop the damage, Jace... and in meantime, we’re trying to get people out of Central Park, maybe some Warlock can come to our rescue...» and starts to move to the portal, trying to grab Jace with him.

But his parabatai stays still. «Magnus could you make our glamour a bit stronger? We need some time to act... maybe you could reinforce our protective runes to reduce the impact on the Mundanes» he says.

And Magnus sighs, squints, shakes his head. Alec swears that that means he isn’t ready, from how he was terrified a few hours ago with the small accident in the bathroom, surely, he isn’t ready. But all of a sudden, the Warlock’s attention seems drawn to something that only he hears. And he sighs, nodding then. «Nothing too complex, you’ll draw the glamour marks and the protective runes, I’ll just reinforce them with some potions I have, then I go back home. Biscuit will have to open a portal. Alexander is right, my magic is unteady right now…».

« _Magnus._ » Alec calls him, his voice trembling for a moment, but then he feels some incredible rage mount in his throat. «You did not have the right to ask him, Jace. And you, _you_...» his tone softens when he addresses Magnus. «You don’t have to do it, not yet, you’re not yet in shape... this isn’t your battle…».

«I solemnly swear to you, I won’t do anything extreme, a glamour, just that. No battles, no head shots.» He promises slowly, his hand on his chest.

And Alec looks at him, and with a shiver running down his back, he remembers it, out on the balcony, his dead weight in his arms, he remembers those days that are still so alive and raw in his head, on his body, under his fingers, not being able to talk to him, not being able to see his eyes. «You don’t have to.» he then adds and finally seems to focus on him, Magnus is still there, sitting watching him, breathing, living.

«I do it of my own free will, Alexander. It’s all right. And your battles, are mine, remember that» he hears him say, as he stands up and quickly goes to his office. «I get two things from my apothecary, my jacket and I come with you».

Alec may not immediately look at Jace’s face. Perhaps, if he did, he would punch him, kick him into the portal and ask Consul Penhallow to exile Jace at Wrangel Island, right away, to make him count the conjunctions of the wards. But he decides to remain composed. «You have no right to ask him.» he says coldly, staying as calm as he can, and he is good at it. «He’s still not able to control his magic, Jace... after all that’s happened».

«Believe me, Alec, I know.» he interrupts him. «But it’s the only way we have. Magnus is available, he is powerful and already knows what he has to do _and_ ─» he sighs shrugging.

« _Available_?» he repeats, and this single word comes out of his teeth like vitriol.

«You know what I mean... when it comes to helping us, he’s available. Maybe it’s the wrong choice of words, but you understand... don’t get me wrong.» Jace replies with folded arms. «Many Warlock would tell me directly to go and fuck off…».

«I’d tell you that too. You are taking advantage on him. You’re using him like that, do you understand it? He doesn’t say no, because you are my parabatai. Because he knows I would suffer, because Magnus and I are together, and he wants to help. But this isn’t his battle.» he hisses, dangerously approaching him, an impossible rage that perhaps the rune emanates even stronger on Jace’s side. «And you shouldn’t take advantage of my relationship with Magnus to make your own convenience. Pay a fucking Warlock to help you».

And the Head of the Institute pushes him back, without too much force, the clenched fist in the middle of his chest and a flip that sends him back just a step. «Don’t you dare to think so bad about me, I know how important Magnus is to you. You must understand that we are running out of time, if I could avoid asking him I would do it. But there are no Warlock who can act as quickly as he, who are available to move now with such little warning...» he explains serenely. «Magnus already knows how to act».

«Jace if anything happens to him, this time there’s no excuse.» he growls and perhaps would be even more threatening, but Magnus emerges from his office as if he’d just been at some fashion week, with a pair of skinny black pants and a black sweater that was clearly pulled out of one of Alec’s drawers that he has invaded with his monochrome wardrobe, a jacket perhaps too light for this season on his shoulders, the shiny leather shoes that don’t seem like something that he would wear for a battle. So, somehow this reassures Alec, he doesn’t want to fight.

«Shall we go?» he whispers. «I promise I’ll make Clary open a portal right after I set up the glamor and reduce the impact on Central Park. You will do the rest».

Jace precedes them in the portal with a grunt and a nod.

And Alec touches his hand, slowly. Dwelling his finger on the Lightwood family ring, the only ring Magnus wears, as if to give it more importance. And this makes his heart skip a beat. They need to talk about that ring as well.

«When we come back, we’ll have to talk about this situation with Jace, mh?» Magnus says softly, in a deep low voice before putting a small light kiss just under his ear.

And Alec tightens his lips and gives him a small nod of agreement.

 

 

 

Alec has seen many battles, too many, especially since Magnus is in his life. And every time his heart is gripped in his chest: because, in spite of his work, Magnus is there, is still there, waiting for him every evening, he’s there and lets his magic slip on him whenever he needs it; he’s there when the nightmares become more pressing and incessant, he is always there to welcome him even when he says something too harsh, even when his job, his horrible job, keeps them apart. And sometimes he wonders if in another world, with another life, in another situation, Magnus would have ended up being his companion, the incontrovertible master of his heart.

Alec has seen many battles, real battles in which there is the risk of dying, in which the danger is certainly greater than the angelic blood that runs through his veins. He has seen many battles and is afraid, terrified that sooner or later all the horror that he has seen will take Magnus away, and not only physically, but that it’ll dry up his heart sooner or later.

Here, now they are faced with this sort of huge plant that climbs up into the sky, it seems different from the others, as if its root were even darker, as if those branches around which those huge putrid wasps were hovering were nothing but a bizarre maypole. It all seems too simple, all too still, all too quiet. At other times, the plant reacted immediately, sensing the danger of their presence. And now it suddenly appeared in Central Park without even a single human victim. It seems─ _no_ Alec doesn’t even want to think about it.

And maybe he’s the only one to have noticed all this...

Clary is bent to the ground to draw glamour and protective runes on the ground, Simon and Izzy are marking the perimeter and perhaps, but just for a moment this thought runs through his head, they should have asked Idris for reinforcements.

And for a second it all seems unnatural. A mission. Like many others. But then. _But then_ …

Then he remembers that the last time they were all together in front of one of those pestilential plants, Jace almost died and Magnus made that exchange with something, someone who maybe was Azrael, the Angel of Death himself. An exchange that almost did cost him his life.

And an incredible panic explodes in his stomach and he looks at Magnus, who also is bended to pour something on the ground with a powder that Alec has never seen him use, and that perhaps is the result of his research of these last hours, or maybe it’s something the he has never observed well when he does his magic tricks on the battlefield. Yet he always observed him well, always. Perfectly. He could mimic every movement he makes when he prepares those love filters that the Mundanes likes so much, he could also enumerate on his fingertips the movements he makes when he cooks, he could describe in detail the contrite expression he has when he reads one of those manuscripts that who knows how he got hold of, in this or that demonic language.

And now he observes him and there is something different. There is something that emits light from its skin, under the hair behind his neck. And maybe it’s just something that Alec is imagining. But of course, that something different remains, now that he sees him hold his wrist as he tries to magic on the tips of his fingers. And something seems to tremble under their feet, but the plant remains motionless, where it is, so it’s either the result of his magic, or Alec’s imagination.

And so he moves, approaches and picks up Magnus’ wrist without even thinking. And perhaps he would like to tell him to go home, that they will get away even without his help, but finally the glow of the blue smoke seems to settle on Magnus’ fingertips and he begins to move his hand as if he were playing a harp. The runes drawn on the ground and covered by that strange dust seem to flicker with gold. And Alec is sure he has never seen anything like that.

Magnus looks at him with some gratitude, as if his intervention, him just holding his wrist was enough to stabilize the magical flow. But he suddenly seems so tired, that perhaps if Alec wasn’t so close and practically supporting him, he would collapse on his knees.

«So cool!» says Simon from a near distance, approaching them with decisive fast steps. «But we must hurry, because that thing may wake up».

« _So cool_.» Magnus repeats in a croaked hoarse voice, and his words came out like a hissing noise. «Who would have thought that dragonwort ash did this effect... on your runes…» he says quietly.

«You’re tired, go home.» Alec murmurs immediately.

«I have to limit the damage. When you kill the plant, it will explode... and it will be impossible to limit the destruction only with these protective runes...» the Warlock whispers, moving aside a bit, wobbling for a second.

«Magnus, you said...» he begins to say.

«There’s something I don’t like, Alexander. That plant is different from the others. It didn’t react to your angelic energy like the other that attacked Barbie as soon as he got too close to its perimeter...» he explains, his eyes fixed on the ominous plant that is climbing in the sky.

And Alec’s lips tighten, and he would say something when his parabatai’s voice rumbles in his ears. «Shall we go? We need to get moving, lets go».

«Wait.» Alec hisses, raising his hand, without taking his eyes off Magnus.

«Alec, I’m glad you’re in love but...» Jace begins to say.

«There’s something wrong with it.» Alec says, a thin voice that sounds like a whisper.

«With what?» his parabtai asks stepping closer to them, and even the others do that.

«The plant. It doesn’t look like the others.» Magnus comments shrugging, his eyes still chained on that.  «Does it seem the same as the others?».

«It’s just much bigger, Magnus.» Simon nods. «Probably this is what seems different...».

Alec rolls his eyes. «What do you think?».

And Magnus remains silent for a long time. Very long. As before, he seemed to be listening to something that only he can hear, something that whispers in his head. And his eyes look different, his pupils look different, but maybe it’s the dark, it’s the cold. Perhaps Alec is beginning to imagine things.

«I don’t know.» he sighs. «I don’t know what I think, I just think there’s something wrong. The plant, the wasps... the other time they behaved differently: they attacked immediately. They have killed Mundanes... this time there’s no victims, they don’t attack... it just… _weird_ ».

«Maybe it’s because we’re on a Ley Line, I guess?» Izzy suggest, as if it were obvious.

And Magnus widens his eyes: a flash of realization that crosses his gaze as if it were the idea of the century. «What did you say?».

«Well, we’re in Central Park ... one of the places to access Faerieland, isn’t it?» his sister explains briefly. «There is certainly a Ley Line here... in theory being one of the privileged access points to their kingdom, there should be a conjunction of Ley Lines...».

And Magnus rubs his hands, as if to recall his magic. Eyes fixed on the plant, which stands out in the sky, that liquid that flows from its bark, like oil that seems to shine in the light of the buildings that surround Central Park, and seems almost blood.

«Mags?» Alec calls him softly.

«There’s a demon here... or maybe he’s not here, _but_...» he murmurs slowly. «These plants feed him. That’s why they react... but this plant doesn’t react because it’s drawing energy from the Ley Lines that meet here... the plant doesn’t react because the demon… may be there... or at least it could be there...» he adds murmuring, pointing at the centre of the plant, between the roots. «Why did not I think of it before?» he growls. «A great danger, a great danger is coming... _he_ had said it...» he continues to repeat his voice raspy, and he runs his hand through his hair. «A great danger».

«What are you talking about? A demon?» Jace asks. «A great danger?!».

Magnus shakes his head. «There’s no time for these explanations...» he sighs and points his eyes at Alec, it’s clearly one of those things they’ll have to talk about. Something must have happened while he slept, while he was there, abandoned on the bed. «I don’t know if your weapons will be enough to eliminate the plant, certainly not enough to kill the demon...».

«We’ll have to try...» Jace murmurs, grasping his seraph blade. «You can go Magnus, you did what we called you for. Send us your compensation requests…».

And Magnus shakes his head. «I have to support you in this matter. It isn’t just your battle…».

And the Shadowhunters nod, as if in a sign of gratitude, while Alec stands still, tense like a violin’s string. And he swallows twice, and tries not to panic as he takes a deep breath. «Be careful.» he manages to say. «As soon as you feel tired, go home».

«Don’t worry, I know what I do.» Magnus nods, winking at him. «I have stocked up with herbs and magical mixtures, which will be enough to stem the damage and come to your rescue if necessary,» he adds, looking at the others. «You must aim at its roots. It’s from the ground that it drains energy. The wasps will attack you, but the roots won’t, too busy in making stocks...».

«Alec and Simon bow and arrows will cover us, you’ll kill the wasps from afar and you’ll shoot some arrows enhanced with the fire rune at the base to do more damage... Clary you get ready with your special runes... and if Magnus need it, open a portal» decides Jace. «Izzy and I go to the roots... Magnus, don’t intervene if it is not strictly necessary».

«Okay.» the Warlock nods and Alec looks at him for a last moment before jumping into the trees.

 

 

It will be a long night.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for following me this far,  
> I hope you enjoyed it.  
> Please, let me know if there's some terrible mistake here that makes your skin crawl.  
> Let me know if you liked it, by leaving a kudo or a comment, it would be very much appreciated.  
> Thank you again.


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